


(Don't) Say A Word

by LindorKisses



Series: Gippalaipalooza [1]
Category: Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: Al Behd Code, Al Bhed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Language Kink, M/M, Machine Faction, Male Slash, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, My First Smut, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, Unrequited Love, Yevon - Freeform, bevelle, gippalai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindorKisses/pseuds/LindorKisses
Summary: Baralai would swear it to Yevon that the Al Behd code does not arouse him. It doesn’t. He is perfectly capable of listening to others speak Al Behd without it affecting him. However, when it is Gippal speaking, well, things become a bit…hard. And, unfortunately, Gippal is more than delighted to lend his hands – and voice – to help Baralai into his sticky situation.
Relationships: Baralai/Gippal
Series: Gippalaipalooza [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811827
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	(Don't) Say A Word

**Author's Note:**

> "(Don't) Say A Word" is my first attempt at smut, so I sincerely apologize if it is poorly written. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to reading feedback to help me improve the quality of the story! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor do I claim any ownership of the videogame Final Fantasy X-2. All rights belong to the producers and composers of the game, such as Square Enix and Noriko Matsueda.

“Muug fru E vuiht.” (Look who I found)

Like the snake tail of a Rhyos attacking, thunder strikes Baralai. Heat flares throughout his body as the electricity slithers through his veins and towards his core, which is rapidly becoming molten lava.

Umber colored cheeks flooding with crimson blood, Baralai turns towards the grinning male and snaps, “Don’t startle me like that, Gippal.”

A single blue eye widens in shock at the hostile attitude before Gippal holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace, “Not my intention, ‘Lai.”

Guilt slightly douses the roaring fire consuming the lower half of Baralai’s body as he straightens his rigid back and smooths his garments, grateful that the thick fabric is concealing his growing problem.

“No, don’t apologize,” Baralai closes his eyes, inhaling a deep shaky breath before reopening his eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just…”

His words fade off as he struggles to simultaneously justify his behavior and repair his shattered composure.

Fortunately, Gippal comes to the rescue, his hands lowering as a smile returns to his lips, “What’s this? The stoic Baralai losing his cool? Now _this_ is a sight to see.”

A mirroring grin tugs at Baralai’s own lips as he rolls his eyes at his former teammate’s teasing, but before he can respond, Gippal throws his arm around his shoulder and pulls the shorter Praetor towards the side of his body.

Like accidentally giving a fiend a potion, the fire that had become embers spring back to life as Gippal’s touch sears through his garments. Shudders rack through Baralai’s rigid form as his problem forces its way to the forefront of his mind.

 _“Focus on something else,”_ He commands himself as he desperately tries to ignore the building pressure in his core.

Unfortunately, what his lust addled brain then decides to focus is not the bustling daily marketplace in Bevelle or the cries of vendors advertising their wares. Of course not. Instead, his focus is ensnared by Gippal’s scent. Absent is the constant scent of heat, and filling its place is a fresh clean aroma, one that – based on Baralai’s experience with Gippal – suggests the Al Behd had showered sometime today and had not yet begun working on some machina contraption.

The gentle aroma teases Baralai’s nose before receding, only to return and then flee again. Brown eyes flutter close as his traitorous body begins leaning into Gippal’s one-armed embrace, trying to capture the allusive scent.

“Do I smell or something?” Gippal’s amused voice is like a dragon’s tail slamming into Baralai.

Jerking his head away from Gippal’s neck with ruddy cheeks, Baralai immediately breaks free from the loose embrace and dashes away, ignoring the blonde-haired male’s voice calling him back and the baffled stares of the locals.

Only when he is safely locked in the study of his residence does Baralai finally stop moving and _breathe_ , trying to steady his erratic heartbeat and ease his burning lungs.

His lungs aren’t the only thing burning, though.

Clenching his jaw as his arousal reminds him of its wretched presence, Baralai throws himself face first into his couch, hoping the cool air and the disappearance from the world would improve his sorry condition.

Unfortunately, all it manages to do is worsen his condition.

A reluctant whimper escapes thin lips as his garments brush against his lower body, providing the barest touch of pleasure that his body desperately strains to recapture. Teeth clamp down on the soft internal skin of his cheek as Baralai forces his hips to still, repressing the erotic sounds clawing to escape his mouth and especially repressing the urge to find pleasure.

 _“How disappointing,”_ Baralai focuses all his attention on his thoughts instead of on his body. _“Not only did I fail to control myself, I was even rude to Gippal, who had done nothing to deserve that treatment.”_

 _“Except speak Al Behd,”_ A traitorous voice protests, but Baralai quickly reprimands himself. _“Of course he’s going to speak Al Behd; that’s the code he’s used all his life. Asking him not to speak Al Behd would be the same as telling him not to be working on a machina: it’s impossible and wrong to even request. I was the one at fault, not Gippal. I should have had better control of myself, of my emotions, of my body. How could Gippal possibly be at fault for an issue he’s not even aware of?”_

 _“At least, an issue I hope he isn’t aware of,”_ It is shame, this time, that reddens Baralai’s cheeks as his body shivers with dread at the possibility of Gippal discovering that Baralai didn’t completely view him as a close friend. Brown eyes are curtained behind umber eyelids as Baralai heaves a sigh, and his flushed body melts into the couch while he melts into his thoughts.

 _“I’ll just apologize the next time I see Gippal,”_ Baralai decides. _“I’ll just say I was overheated to excuse my peculiar behavior, and then we can move on as if nothing happened. I’ll make certain I have control over myself to prevent future incidents.”_

Pleased with his bulletproof plan, the tension gnawing at his body finally lessens, though his arousal stubbornly remains.

 _“And here I was believing myself cured,”_ Baralai derisively snorts at his ignorance. _“Turns out I’m still the same as I was two years ago when we were part of the Crimson Squad.”_

His thoughts turn reflective as he reminisces, _“Even back then, I was always fascinated by Gippal: his lively personality, his carefree attitude, his fluid voice, his **tongue**.” _

A brief image flashes before Baralai’s closed eyes of Gippal childishly sticking his tongue out after being reprimanded by said Praetor, and while the image should make him laugh (as he had done during that event), it instead blows a gust of wind that rekindles the fire smoldering beneath his skin.

Unbidden, another image – this one created out of sheer fantasy and far lewder than the previous one - flashes before his eyes exploring exactly what that tongue would look like, would feel like, traveling along Baralai’s flushed panting body.

 _“I didn’t mean his tongue **that** way!”_ Baralai snarls at himself as he refrains from rutting against the couch like an adolescent. _“I meant his **language** , not actually his tongue!”_

The Praetor maliciously slices the vulgar image, still lingering before his eyes, apart before forcing his attention to return to safer and more innocuous topics, _“I’ve always enjoyed hearing Gippal speak Al Behd. It was – It still is, actually – a beautiful sound. The way his mouth widens and closes around certain vowels, the way his tongue occasionally clicks after speaking a certain letter, the way his voice drops an octave with every consonant he utters: all of it has always fascinated me.”_

 _“But never to **this** extent,”_ Brown eyes reenter the world as Baralai lifts himself up enough to glare at his arousal before laying back down with a huff. _“I was never affected this way before. At least, I wasn’t affected in the beginning. After all, I was perfectly capable of listening to Gippal speak Al Behd when he taught me. I certainly didn’t have any problems then.”_

 _“So, when did things change? When did the Al Behd code go from just a language – go from **Gippal’s** language - to something that causes **problems** for me?”_ Baralai tries to peer inside himself to find the answer, but darkness is the only thing that responds. _“I wonder if things became different when I started viewing Gippal less as a friend and more as a man – a teasing, vexing, loveable man.”_

Another sigh escapes Baralai’s lips as he resigns himself to speculating with no clear answer before moving past the topic.

 _“No matter if things changed when I changed or if things changed at some other point, the Al Behd code didn’t mean the same thing to me when that change occurred,”_ Baralai reflects as his eyes flutter close, _“No longer was it just a means to bond with my teammate; no longer was it just a beautiful code that expanded my means of communication.”_

 _“Eventually, that beloved code – the one I had been so eager to learn and master – became my most hated fiend,”_ The confessions surface for Baralai’s inspection, and with ease, for even these secrets know that they’ll never see the light of day, _“Because every time, every single time, Gippal spoke Al Behd, I couldn’t control myself. That code, that voice - **his** voice – did things to me; and I was too weak to resist, to counterattack, to defend.” _

_“The fiend became more manageable after the dispersion of the Crimson Squad,”_ Baralai carefully avoids the cause for that dispersion, knowing himself well enough to not inspect that still sore wound. _“Of course, it would be more manageable, though. After all, Gippal wasn’t around to speak Al Behd.”_

 _“And with Sin’s defeat, Spira became more tolerant of Al Behds, who were finally able express themselves,”_ Baralai continues to reflect, but this time his attention is momentarily concentrated on Spira’s progress. _“Even the rigid – which I can admit - Bevelle had been touched by that particular influence. In fact, the evidence can already be found in the marketplace, where more and more Al Behds come to shop and even set up their own stalls.”_

 _“Of course, the more Al Behds there are, the more exposure one receives to their code,”_ A puff of air leaves Baralai’s mouth as he discovers the source of his misbelief. _“It’s no wonder I thought I had finally defeated that lusty fiend. Every time I heard an Al Behd speak their code, I was never affected. Not once did my body warm and tingle at the sounds. Not once did my – wretched, wretched, wretched – lower body peek in interest at their voice. Not once did my well-maintained composure end up shattered. Not once did I lose control of myself.”_

 _“But then again,”_ Opening his eyes, Baralai lifts his head from the couch and gazes out the windows dividing his study and balcony, _“none of those people who spoke Al Behd were Gippal.”_

And that makes all the difference.

* * *

The following afternoon, Baralai sets out to the marketplace for his daily stroll, needing a well-deserved break from the mountainous pile of documents he has to review. If he is honest with himself, he is hoping to see Gippal, but if he’s completely honest with himself, part of him also hopes he doesn’t see Gippal.

 _“No matter how I feel, I must apologize to him,”_ Baralai firmly decides as he idly browses the items each stall is selling. _“I just hope he’s still in Bevelle.”_

As Baralai greets each vendor and other passerby’s who notice him, his brown eyes scan his surroundings before falling upon a clustered hoard of men and women gathered around an open stall.

 _“That’s quite the crowd,”_ Baralai silently notes as his curiosity perks up in interest _. “It’s rare to see so many interested buyers. I wonder what luxurious wares the vendor could be selling to garner such publicity?”_

Seeing no harm in investigating the matter and assuaging his curiosity, Baralai moves towards the crowd and enters its midst.

“Oh, Yevon, do I want one of _those_ ,” A young woman purrs as she leans against her friend, providing Baralai more access to the front of the crowd.

 _“The vendor must be selling some kind of item, then,”_ Baralai initially assumes, until he’s at the front of the crowd and his eyes fall upon Gippal: a very sweaty, very shirtless Gippal.

Baralai’s mind immediately blanks, and his composure burns to ashes as his clothes once did when a bomb cast a fira spell on him. Brown eyes (hungrily) stare at Gippal’s exposed skin and appreciate the toned figure - exposed for the whole greedy world to see - the tan skin the (lucky) sun (had the privilege of) worshipping, and the confidence oozing out of every minuscule pore.

It is a marvelous sight, and one Baralai unconsciously realizes is the cause of the enormous crowd. Before jealousy can tear into his skin, though, Baralai’s eyes catch onto a sweat drop trailing its way down Gippal’s chest. Brown eyes reverently follow the drop past the lean pectorals and across the flat plane of Gippal’s stomach before disappearing into the (tempting) cave of Gippal’s pants.

He needs to go.

Baralai tries to turn from the (delicious) sight, but his legs refuse to cooperate.

He needs to go _now_.

Baralai’s eyes tear themselves away from Gippal’s lower body as he forces his reluctant body to take one measly step backwards, trying to at least recede into the crowd. It won’t be good if Gippal sees him, especially since he is so close to the front of the crowd. How could Baralai possibly even begin to explain himself, his _expression_?

He can already hear Gippal’s teasing remark and the cocky grin he would wear around his (so damn kissable) lips, “You look like you want to eat me, ‘Lai.”

Baralai’s body jolts as a fire roars to life and sears his already sensitive inside, and the pulsing in his nether regions grow to a substantial height that surpasses even Mount Gagazet.

He does.

He really does want to eat Gippal.

Shudders rack Baralai’s trembling frame as he struggles to recede deeper into the crowd, but his focus is momentarily ensnared by the voice of an Al Behd woman.

“Oui muug mega oui yna ryjehk vih, Gippal.” (You look like you are having fun, Gippal)

Ice quickly douses the fire devouring Baralai’s inside as a cold dreadful fear – an emotion he had only ever experienced when he had witnessed Nooj shoot Gippal – rams into him like a seed cannon from a purpurea.

He needs to leave _now_.

He needs to leave before Gippal replies, before he hears that _voic_ e.

Yet, no matter how hard Baralai struggles or how fiercely he commands his legs to move, he remains frozen as if a Tomb had used stone gaze on him.

“Fru tuac hud ahzuo cusa yddahdeuh?” (Who does not enjoy some attention?)

The fire burst through the ice repressing it like a bomb sacrificing itself. Brown eyes disappear from the world as Baralai squeezes his eyes shut and barrels out of the crowd and into a cool shadowy alley. His heart thundering in his chest, Baralai slumps against the stone wall as he attempts to steady his erratic breathing to no avail.

Perhaps, though, his breathing should be the last of his concerns, Baralai realizes as he shifts against the wall only to freeze. His teeth immediately clamp down on his lips to stifle the erotic sound as his body shudders against the fabric of his garment that had offered brief pleasure.

 _“Calm down, calm down, **calm down** ,”_ Baralai repeats the mantra to himself, hoping the change in focus would give his body the time it needs to recompose itself.

It does not.

And of course - because Yevon likes to torture him apparently – the time when Baralai needs to be alone, Gippal appears.

“‘Lai, are you okay?” Concern radiates from the single blue eye as Gippal crowds Baralai against the wall. “I saw you shoot out of that crowd all of the sudden, and I thought something was wrong.”

“I’m fine!” Baralai snarls as he shoves Gippal away, his body shuddering at the other man’s sudden proximity. “I’m just…I’m just overheated. That’s all.”

“Overheated?” Gippal raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms over his (still naked, Baralai notices with a stifled moan) chest. “’Lai, you’ve fought in Bikanel Island. I highly doubt this weak Bevelle heat would cause you to be overheated. Besides, heat stroke doesn’t cause mood swings.”

“I do not have mood swings,” White teeth flash in the sunlight as Baralai bares his teeth at a skeptical Gippal. “If I say I’m just hot, then I’m. Just. Hot.”

After punctuating every word, Baralai turns on his heels and stalks away, choosing to flee instead of to fight.

He certainly isn’t in any state to fight.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Baralai resists the urge to moan as his garments brush against his hardening problem.

Stupid Gippal and his stupid erotic voice.

“I’ve seen you walk faster,” Gippal idly comments as he easily maintains Baralai’s (slower than normal, to be honest) pace. “You going to keep pushing me away, or am I going to have to follow you all the way home?”

Brown eyes burn with a promise of retribution as Baralai growls, “Don’t you dare. And for Yevon’s sake put on a damn shirt already!”

“Why? The view distracting you?” Mischievousness glints from Gippal’s eye as he cuts in front of Baralai, effectively halting his progress.

Baralai freezes as his mouth falls open.

How is he even supposed to respond?

Pink lips open and close as Baralai struggles to create a witty response, but the response continues to allude him as his gaze (unwillingly, he would like to insist) drops to Gippal’s bare chest.

“I don’t, that isn’t, I mean,” Several responses simultaneously spill from Baralai’s lips as his poor brain works to collect and repair the threads of composure that were hiding beneath the misty fog filling his head.

As Baralai struggles to regain his composure and get himself out of the sticky situation he is beginning to find himself in, he never notices the contemplative look that falls over Gippal’s face.

He doesn’t notice Gippal touching him, either.

Baralai is yanked out of the fog when rough fingers gently pull his chin upwards so that his gaze (finally) returns to Gippal’s face.

“You haven’t been sleeping much,” Gippal solemnly notes as he touches the dark circles under Baralai’s eyes with the pad of his thumb. “I’m guessing you haven’t been taking care of yourself, then, and instead have been working yourself to an early grave.”

“I have no-,” The protest immediately begins to fall from Baralai’s lips before he stops and considers the situation.

Gippal doesn’t believe he’s overheated, and while it is not the complete truth, it is true that Baralai has been overworking himself.

He can use overworking himself to justify his current flushed and short-tempered state.

Gippal would believe it, and, most importantly, he would give Baralai the breathing space he desperately needs.

Still, Baralai can’t be too quick to agree. He has never been inclined to admit his incompetence at self-care, and Gippal knows that.

“I’ve been busy,” Baralai finally settles on a sufficient explanation to excuse his actions, refraining from shivering as Gippal – probably absentmindedly, Baralai reminds himself as he destroys the hope blossoming in his chest – continues rubbing the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Too busy to take care of yourself?” A blue flame pierces Baralai as Gippal’s eye narrows.

Brown eyes avoid the heated glare as he shuffles backwards, putting some space between their bodies, “I am the Praetor, Gippal. I have many responsibilities and duties to attend to, and self-care simply-”

“Does not take priority?” Gippal finishes before scoffing and shaking his head. “You haven’t changed a bit, ‘Lai. You still suck at taking care of yourself.”

“I do not,” Baralai feebly refutes before quieting when that blue eye glares at him.

“You do,” There is a finality in Gippal’s voice that even Baralai knows not to challenge. “Which is why I am going to be living with you.”

Brown eyes fall out of their sockets as Baralai gapes at Gippal, “What?”

“I. Am. Living. With. You,” Gippal repeats as a chesire grin curls along his lips. “Since you cannot take care of yourself, then I am going to have to fulfill that role.”

Before Baralai can argue, Gippal releases his chin and rushes back to the stall Baralai had seen him at; but, before he disappears, Gippal calls over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at home, honey.”

Gazing at Gippal’s retreating back, all Baralai can do is whimper.

And for once, it isn’t lust that causes the sound.

Well, not completely.

* * *

 _“Perhaps he forgot his idea,”_ Hope curls around Baralai’s pacing body as he continues waiting for (dreading) that knock on his door. _“Gippal is prone to using threats like that to make me behave without actually having any intention of executing them.”_

 _“Besides, it’s already so late,”_ Brown eyes flick towards the oval windows accompanying the front door, noting the dusk light falling into the home. _“Gippal, even if he actually meant his words, wouldn’t possibly come at such a late hour; and, I haven’t even prepared to accommodate a guest. I haven’t even cleaned out the guest bedroom, and that alone is a problem because that means we would have to share-”_

Knock, knock, knock.

Baralai’s thoughts come to a screeching halt as he freezes in place, and his wide brown eyes gaze at the front door as if it had become a fiend.

Knock, knock, knock.

 _“Perhaps I should pretend to be out,”_ An alternative escape proposes itself, but Baralai shakes his head as he reminds himself to breathe _. “No, I’m not doing that. Gippal doesn’t deserve that. Besides, when Gippal sets his mind to something, he sticks with it, so no matter how long I pretend to be “away,” Gippal will just wait for me to return.”_

Even though he’s made up his mind, Baralai still cannot uproot himself from his position, and he probably would have remained that way if Gippal hadn’t spoken from behind the front door.

“‘Lai, you do know you have windows, right? I can see you, even with just one eye,” An unwilling grin tugs at the corners of Baralai’s lips at the amusement dripping from Gippal’s words. “So, you going to open the door, or what?”

“Why?” The fear immediately disappears in a cloud of smoke as fiends who have been defeated, and Baralai easily engages in the banter between them. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on breaking down my door, Gippal.”

“Maybe,” A chuckle escapes Baralai’s mouth as he opens the front door, his own smile widening at the cheeky expression adorning Gippal’s face.

“Don’t even think about it,” Baralai tries to solemnly warn Gippal, but his whole charade is undermined by the smile he can feel on his lips.

A deep chuckle reverberates from Gippal’s chest before he picks up two bags and, after Baralai steps aside, enters the residence.

“Why does this place look exactly the same way as it did two months ago?” A blue eye inspects Baralai’s simple home.

“Because I like it that way,” Baralai rolls his eyes as he closes the door and grabs one of Gippal’s bag from his arm.

“Hey,” Although there should be outrage or protest – as there once had been two months ago when Gippal last came to temporarily visit - the word that comes out of Gippal’s mouth is covered in satisfaction.

“I’m a host,” Baralai reminds the Al Behd with a playful grin before turning and moving down the hallway, Gippal following behind. “I have to show my guests, even the sudden ones, hospitality.”

“You know you’re happy to see me again,” Gippal teases as his long strides cover the distance between them, and he chuckles when Baralai fakes an exasperated sigh.

“I suppose,” Another smile pokes at his lips, but Baralai does his best to suppress as he and Gippal fall into step with each other.

“And, to answer your earlier question, of course things haven’t changed,” Baralai continues the flow of conversation. “I’m far too busy to engage in something like home renovation. Besides, I like predictability and, you know, being able to _find_ things.”

“How could you possibly lose a couch, ‘Lai?” Peals of laughter burst from Gippal’s lips as Baralai punches him in the arm.

“You know exactly what I meant,” Baralai huffs as he rounds the corner only to stop when he suddenly remembers his earlier thoughts.

“What’s up?” Heat radiates from Baralai’s back as Gippal halts behind him.

Sharply inhaling at the sudden proximity, Baralai wills the heat from his cheeks - to no avail, of course – as he turns around and backs away from Gippal’s body.

Not wanting to ruin the normalcy they had just established, Baralai tries to return to that comfortable atmosphere, but his voice is still breathless as he explains, “W-Well, unfortunately, thanks to a certain _someone_ and their abrupt appearance, I haven’t had time today to clean out the guest bedroom.”

“Ah, that’s a real shame. I guess I have to give this someone a good talking to about disturbing our beloved Praetor,” Mirth gleams from Gippal’s blue eye as he avoids the punch a, very exasperated yet very fond, Baralai throws at his stomach. “It’s fine. I’ll just sleep in your bedroom tonight.”

The smile immediately dies from Baralai’s lips as the situation he had predicted earlier came to be reality, and all warmth and happiness are instantly destroyed as icy fear carves out its home in his body.

“W-What?” Grimacing at the high-pitched breathless squeak that comes out of his mouth, Baralai clears his throat and steadies his voice. “I mean, I only have one bed in the room, Gippal, and it’s a small bed.”

“You’re so tiny, ‘Lai, that I hardly think there’ll be a problem with space,” White teeth flash at Baralai in a dazzling grin as Gippal resumes walking to his bedroom – _their_ bedroom, if only for tonight – while cleverly avoiding the kicks Baralai aims at his person.

“I’m only a few centimeters shorter than you, Gippal,” Baralai puffs as he reminds Gippal of their (miniscule, thank you very much) height difference before following the blonde man.

“Still shorter than me,” Gippal teases, and the laughter that bubbles from his mouth quickly turns into a wheeze when Baralai kicks the back of his legs.

The yelp of pain that fills the air satisfies Baralai as much as having Gippal by his side again, though the Praetor isn’t going to say that.

After setting Gippal’s things in the bedroom, Baralai heads towards the kitchen and focuses on making dinner while Gippal wisely limits his assistance to bringing ingredients, utensils, and setting the table.

“I feel so bad,” Gippal whines for the hundredth time as he rocks on his heels in the middle of the kitchen. “You’re doing all the work, ‘Lai, but I’m not doing anything.”  
“Gippal,” Baralai pauses from adjusting the heat to pointedly stare at the sulking adult, “what happened last time you tried to cook?”

“Hm,” A blue eye averts to the side as Gippal sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “We had a delicious feast?”

“You mean the food we had to purchase at another inn because you managed to burn not only the food you were cooking – _attempting_ to cook, I should say - but our rooms as well?” Baralai doesn’t stop his eyebrow from arching up, nor does he stop himself from crossing his arms as he reminds his talented, yet somehow also inept, Al Behd of his last cooking disaster.

“We had fun, though,” Gippal dismisses the words with a grin.

“I would have had more fun if I had gotten to eat and sleep instead of having to hunt for another inn,” Rolling his eyes, Baralai returns his attention to the food, stirring the product before sampling it. “Dinner’s done, so there’s no use complaining anymore.”

“Instead,” Baralai’s voice drowns out Gippal’s grumbles, “you can tell me what brings you to Bevelle.”

“Same as two months ago,” Gippal answers as he grabs his plate and follows Baralai into the dining room. “This time, though, the Machine Faction’s certain that we want to set up a permanent store here, and maybe a few other places.”

“Does your store still have the same purpose, or did you have to compromise?” Baralai inquires as he settles into his seat and begins eating.

“When have you ever known me to compromise, ‘Lai?” A laugh pops from Baralai’s lips at Gippal’s pleased face.

“I don’t know if that’s always something to be proud of,” Baralai teases before he avoids the pea Gippal flicks at him, their laughter filling the air.

“So, if I recall correctly,” Baralai resumes after their laughter dies down, kicking Gippal’s shin at his comment - “You? Not remember correctly? Must be getting old on me, ‘Lai” – before continuing, “the purpose of the shop in Bevelle, and I assume at the other locations, is to sell the machinas the Machine Faction creates, correct?”

“We’re also going to purchase parts that others throw away,” Gippal adds as he finishes his plate before reaching for second helpings. “We’ll send those parts back to Djose Temple and use them for another product.”

“Recycling parts? That’s a good idea,” Baralai hums thoughtfully before smacking Gippal’s hands away from his plate. “Don’t even think about it, Gippal.”

“But, ‘Lai, you have the last roll,” Gippal pouts as his arm retracts to his side. “Do you know how good your rolls are? It’s not fair that you get the last one.”

“I cooked dinner,” The Praetor reminds the sulking Al Behd.

“But aren’t I your guest?” Brown eyes narrow at Gippal’s rebuttal, and even Baralai can’t find a plausible refute.

“You’re sleeping on the floor now,” Baralai huffs as Gippal snatches the roll from his plate only for the Al Behd to squawk in indignation at the sudden sleeping arrangements.

Once the food is eaten and the plates cleaned, Gippal sprints towards Baralai’s bedroom, and when the Praetor – who walked; after all, he wasn’t in any hurry - enters his room, his eyes land on Gippal’s form sprawled over his bed.

“You can’t make me sleep on the floor now,” There’s a challenge in Gippal’s eye as he lifts his head from the covers.

“You sure about that?” Laughter slips from Baralai’s lips at Gippal’s insecure expression before the Praetor shakes his head with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Gippal. I won’t make you sleep on the floor.”

The whoop of joy that comes from Gippal widens the smile coloring Baralai’s lips, but before he can tease Gippal (did Gippal think Baralai could honestly make him sleep on the floor?), Gippal jumps off the bed and envelopes him in a quick embrace.

Roses bloom along Baralai’s umber cheeks as the Praetor becomes rigid in the warm hug, but before Baralai can react, Gippal releases him and walks to the bathroom.

“Wh-What?” His mind struggling to comprehend the whiplash Gippal is giving him, Baralai gapes at the retreating Al Behd.

“I have to brush my teeth,” Gippal answers, shooting a grin at the frozen silver haired male before entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Brown eyes disappear and re-enter the world a few times as Baralai blinks in bewilderment.

 _“Well, at least Gippal’s the same as always,”_ A resigned sigh escapes Baralai’s mouth, but a smile lingers at the corners of his lips. _“Still doing whatever he wants whenever he feels like it.”_

A soft chuckle greets the empty room as Baralai fondly shakes his head before preparing the bed for its two occupants.

Once Gippal is finished brushing his teeth, he exits the bathroom and throws himself – and the towel he’s carrying - on top the neatly undone bed with a content hum, “So much better than the beds at an inn.”

“Is that where you’ve been staying since you got to Bevelle?” Brown eyes linger on the slack tan body resting on top of his bed – on top of _their_ bed – before jerking up to Gippal’s face when he speaks.

“Yeah, for two days, ‘Lai. Two days!” Gippal cries as he throws his arms out dramatically, much to the Praetor’s amusement. “It was so bad, ‘Lai, that if I hadn’t seen you yesterday, I probably would’ve come begging, on hands and knees, to let me stay with you.”

“Poor baby,” Silver hair barely avoids the towel aimed at Baralai’s face, which contorts as Baralai wrinkles his nose. “Whatever do you have a towel for, Gippal?”

“Well, ‘Lai, one generally uses a towel when one washes their face,” Rolling his eyes at the smart reply, Baralai grabs the towel and stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door to prevent him from hearing Gippal’s laughter.

 _“Smart ass,”_ Baralai grumbles to himself, but, of course, there’s no heat, and a smile tugs at his lips even as he brushes his teeth and prepares for bed.

When Baralai exits the bathroom, darkness is the first thing that greets him. Stopping to let his eyes adjust, brown eyes observe his bedroom until they fall upon Gippal’s prone form, already wrapped under the covers.

 _“I wonder if he’s asleep?”_ Baralai considers as he quietly puts the towel in the hamper before navigating towards the bed, and as he comes closer to the furniture, his ears twitch when soft breathing enters his awareness. _“He is asleep.”_

The smile returns to his lips as he lifts up the covers and joins Gippal in the bed.

 _“It feels like back then,”_ Baralai hums in contentment as Gippal instinctively wraps himself around the warm body he senses even in his sleep. _“We didn’t sleep in the same bed often, only when we weren’t in an inn and needed warmth or when we could only afford one bed instead of two.”_

 _“Though there was one time we slept in the same bed that didn’t meet those requirements,”_ Brown eyes flutter close as he leans his back deeper into Gippal’s chest. _“We were in Bikanel Island, and a sudden sandstorm had swept Paine and Nooj’s tent away, along with their belongings. Fortunately, Gippal had prepared for the sandstorm – claiming he could just **sense** it was coming - and ensured our tent didn’t join Nooj’s and Paine’s in an untimely demise. Unfortunately, while that preparation saved our belongings, it also meant that we all had to share a tent.”_

Laughter bubbles in Baralai’s mouth, but he represses it so as not to disturb the sleeping Al Behd, _“Paine took Gippal’s bed, and all three of us males had to fight for space in my tiny bed. It got so bad Nooj just decided to sleep on the floor because it was like “being cooped up with two rowdy chocobo younglings.””_

Even though he tries his best to not release the laughter, it forces its way out his mouth and he quickly shuts his mouth and opens his eyes to peek at Gippal, who is fortunately still asleep.

 _“It was a pretty funny situation,”_ Baralai admits to himself as his cheeks begin aching from the smile on his lips. _“Even without Nooj cramping the bed, Gippal and I didn’t have much space, so we ended up spooning each other.”_

 _“It felt nice,”_ Brown eyes flutter close as Baralai lightly touches the arm wrapped around his stomach. _“It felt exactly like it does now: a little too warm, but still comfortable, still safe, still something I wanted to – **want** to - remain in for the rest of eternity.”_

Sleep wraps its enticing entrails around Baralai’s body, but before it ushers him into a dreamless sleep, Baralai considers one last thought, _“I wonder if that’s when my feelings for Gippal became romantic or if that was just the moment I became aware that I no longer saw Gippal – no longer **wanted** Gippal - as a friend.”_

When his conscious awakens again sometime later, Baralai realizes it is not daytime. In fact, there’s not even a hint of sunlight in the dark room.

 _“Why did I wake up?”_ The question leisurely buzzes around Baralai’s head as the Praetor shrugs off the remnants of sleep only to pause when Gippal shuffles against his back, his arm tightening around Baralai’s waist and his mouth incoherently speaking unintelligible words.

 _“He’s sleep talking,”_ Baralai belatedly realizes as his sleep addled brain finally makes sense of the behavior. _“That must have been what awakened me.”_

Slowly nodding his head in agreement with his deduction, Baralai closes his eyes and grins as Gippal continues mumbling.

 _“He usually only does this when he’s exhausted, so he must have been busy today,”_ The observation comes and goes as Baralai begins returning to sleep’s embrace. _“I’ll use it against him tomorrow. He can’t argue that **I’ve** been overworking when he’s clearly been doing the same.”_

However, before Baralai can fully reunite with sleep and join her in a dreamless paradise, sounds break through Baralai’s consciousness, “Fyhd oui cu pyt.” (Want you so bad.)

Brown eyes jerk open as the words ignite a fire that pools inside his core before spreading down to his lower body. Shuddering as a steady pulsing begins between his legs, Baralai immediately tries to escape Gippal’s embrace, but his panic only rises when Gippal tightens his arms and speaks again.

“Cdyo. Keja sa y lryhla,” (Stay. Give me a chance) Gippal’s husky voice slips underneath Baralai’s skin like poison from an Assassin Bee, and it is a poison Baralai’s tempted not to cure, to remove.

Whimpers claw at the inside of Baralai’s mouth as they desperately try to escape, but Baralai clenches his lips shut and continues struggling to escape Gippal’s arms, an act that only serves to worsen his predicament when Gippal pulls him closer against his chest – and right against a hard pressure that digs into Baralai’s lower back.

A squeak victoriously escapes from Baralai’s mouth as his eyes widen in shock, and his whole body is paralyzed.

 _“That-That-That,”_ Baralai’s mind ignites in a flurry of activity as his brain attempts to comprehend the _thing_ against his back. _“That’s not what I think it is. Gippal-Gippal just didn’t take off his clothes when he went to bed. It’s just some item on his garment.”_

Except, Baralai knows for certain it’s not just some part of Gippal’s clothing, and – though he may try to reason with himself - he knows exactly what it is and knows it all too well.

After all, he’s sporting the same effect.

Another sound, this one a whimper, breaks past Baralai’s lips as his – wicked, wanton – body pushes against the pressure.

 _“Stop it,”_ Baralai orders as he tries to still his rocking hips with little success. _“Stop it.”_

If Baralai had hoped to stop, though, then he is quickly deprived of that will when his grinding is rewarded with a groan.

“Ryntan,” (Harder) The gruff command hissed in Baralai’s ear sends a jolt of lightening down his spine, and Baralai can’t stop himself even if he wants to.

And he _really_ doesn’t want to.

With a low moan, Baralai lifts one of his trembling hands from the covers and slips it between their pressed bodies before gliding it down Gippal’s body until he had reached his destination.

 _“This is so wrong,”_ The flimsy moral part of Baralai rejects his egregious behavior, but even that doesn’t stop his umber hand from pressing on Gippal’s arousal. _“I need to stop. I shouldn’t be doing this. Gippal’s asleep for Yevon’s sake!”_

No matter how aware Baralai is of his sinful actions, he still doesn’t stop – he honestly doesn’t think he can.

 _“For so long, for so many years, I’ve wanted this,”_ The confession doesn’t receive as much inspection as it should, but Baralai’s whole focus – every appendage, every nerve – is attuned to the arousal he is palming and the delectable noises its producing. _“I’ve wanted to do this, **be** with him like this. I can’t stop.”_

Brown eyes are curtained as Baralai clenches his eyes shut, and he whispers an apology to Yevon and a promise to atone for his crimes before finally surrendering himself to the pleasure he had denied himself of for two long (hard) years.

Gippal, even in his unconscious state, must sense Baralai’s change because as his umber hand resumes its reverent palming, a mouth leans towards his ear and releases another command, “Duilr sa dra fyo oui fyhd du.” (Touch me the way you want to.)

This time, Baralai doesn’t repress his moan as he eagerly obeys the request; pressing his hand harder against Gippal’s arousal, Baralai leans fully back into the Al Behd’s chest and allows himself to appreciate the thick appendage.

“Tu oui mega drec? Tu oui fyhd suna?” (Do you like this? Do you want more?) The meanings of the heated questions escape Baralai’s consciousness as he whimpers at the voice and rubs his hand harder against Gippal’s length.

His own hips starting to jerk, Baralai sets a frenzied pace that only increases when a hand brushes against his hip and that sinful voice breathes, “Tu oui fyhd sa du duilr oui?” (Do you want me to touch you?).

Baralai shudders as his hand tightens on Gippal’s (still clothed, Baralai bemoans) arousal and slides the length between his clasped palm.

“Tu oui fyhd sa du duilr oui _rana_?” (Do you want me to touch you _here_?) The hand gently resting on his hip tightens around the appendage before releasing it.

A pitiful whimper escapes Baralai’s lips as he jerks his hips, wanting that touch back on his clothed body, and he whimpers again when said touch is deprived of him.

A chuckle blows across Baralai’s ear as Gippal continues murmuring, “E drehg E lyh tu ajah paddan. Ruf ypuid E duilr oui _rana_?” (I think I can do even better. How about I touch you _here_?)

It’s the barest of touches, lighter than even a chocobo feather, but just having that hand brush over Baralai’s own arousal is enough for the Praetor to cry out in agreement.

Even though the hand returns to Baralai’s hip, the cloud of lust muddling Baralai’s head makes it difficult to focus on anything other than his heated body and the rocking of Gippal’s hips, which starts to become an erratic beat that foreshadows the conclusion of the wonderful event.

Any other time, Baralai would have loved to savor the moment, but he needs to satisfy Gippal, and, most importantly, he needs to satisfy himself.

His whimpers reaching a crescendo, Baralai continues herding Gippal to that finish line only to freeze when a growl echoes in his ear, “Lis, Lai.” (Cum, ‘Lai)

It’s another command Baralai is delighted to obey, and with adjoining cries, Baralai reaches the peak of Mount Pleasure with Gippal.

When his conscious finally returns from the heavens, Baralai slumps deeper into the bed as he moves his slack arm back to his side.

Although he should be worried about the consequences of his actions, Baralai finds he’s unable to do so. Contentment curls throughout his warm satisfied body, and his racing heart slowly returns to a steady pace.

It was wrong of him to take advantage of Gippal, Baralai acknowledges, but it had felt so good to do that to – _with_ – Gippal. Like an itch that had finally been scratched, Baralai feels a tidal wave of peace wash over him and sweep him back into slumber, but not before he chuckles at himself.

 _“I’m so desperate that I even imagined Gippal calling my name,”_ The thought doesn’t destroy the smile curling over Baralai’s lips, and it certainly doesn’t stop him from slipping off into sleep.

Unbeknownst to Baralai, though, as he falls into a tranquil slumber, an arm props up a blonde head as a smoldering blue eye gazes down at him with realization - and hope.

* * *

When Baralai next awakens, sunlight is filtering through his curtains and creating a golden pool in his room. Brown eyes lazily observe the evidence of daytime before sliding down to the arm still wrapped around his middle. It’s all Baralai needs to see for the past night’s events to come flooding back to him.

 _“What have I done?”_ Horror grips Baralai’s rigid body between its claws. _“Oh Yevon, what have I done?”_

Hot acid bubbles to the surface of Baralai’s mouth as he quickly, yet gently, slips from Gippal’s loose embrace and dresses before fleeing the room and the house.

 _“How could I do that?”_ The shame oozes from every thought as Baralai forcefully swallows the bile in his throat while stalking through the streets of the slumbering Bevelle. _“How could I do that to Gippal? How am I even supposed to face him after what I’ve done?”_

Swallowing another round of bile, Baralai stalks towards a metal rail and slumps against the cool structure. Brown eyes sightlessly gaze at the sparkling clear water flowing beneath the bridge before warm stinging water begins pooling in his eyes.

 _“I have no right to cry after what I’ve done,”_ Baralai snarls at himself as he clenches his eyes shut, denying himself the right to cry and grieve his repulsive actions. _“ **I** was awake, unlike Gippal. **I** was conscious, unlike Gippal. **I** was in control, unlike Gippal. I knew better, yet I still did something so-so **disgusting**.”_

Head bowed and silver hair blowing in the soft breeze, Baralai thins his quivering lips and continues to berate himself as the regret swallows him like a Malboro.

 _“I should be punished,”_ There is no mercy in Baralai’s thoughts as the Praetor continues to suppress the sorrow flowing through his veins. _“I shouldn’t even be allowed to have the privilege of being in Gippal’s life. How can he possibly ever trust someone again after they took advantage of him when he was most vulnerable?”_

Even though Baralai knows he deserves to be punished, even though he knows there’s no way to repent for his immoral actions, he still can’t stop the flinch that slaps his face at the thought of losing Gippal.

 _“I don’t want to lose him,”_ The confession is another slap to the face that forces Baralai to press his wet face into his trembling arms. _“I don’t want to lose Gippal, even though I deserve to. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I can’t bear to lose him. Not again.”_

White teeth tear into pink lips like a feast as Baralai stifles the despondent cries threatening to escape, and his face remains pressed into the sleeves of his soaked garments even when he hears footsteps.

“Honestly, ‘Lai, you run out of the room to take a nap on a bridge?” Chains wrap around Baralai’s frozen legs, preventing him from escaping when he hears the last voice he wants to hear. “Why didn’t you just stay in bed? Far more comfortable than a bridge, I can tell you.”

 _“Not now,”_ Baralai begs Yevon as his aching chest tightens with each frenzied painful thump. _“Please, don’t let me lose him so soon.”_

Yet Yevon does nothing, for Gippal still remains behind Baralai’s slouched form, and it’s all the answer Baralai needs to know that the inevitable cannot be prolonged.

Straightening his stiff back, Baralai swallows thickly as he smooths his wrinkled garments before clearing his hoarse throat, “How…How would you like to punish someone who…”

Baralai grimaces as his voice breaks near the end of his sentence before resuming his question, but his voice is a mere whisper that he’s not even certain Gippal can hear in the quiet world, “Who wronged you. How…How would like to punish them?”

No words are spoken as silence drowns the little noises emitting from a now awakening Bevelle, leaving Gippal and Baralai in their own smaller world.

His heart heavy, Baralai gazes at the water as his hands clench the rail until his knuckles are sheets, dreading Gippal’s reply yet forcing himself to accept the consequences no matter how dire - no matter how agonizing.

“Baralai,” Another flinch strikes Baralai’s face at his name, one Gippal rarely uses.

 _“Here it comes,”_ Brown eyes squeeze shut as pink lips part to sharply inhale a deep wheezing breath. _“Don’t run. Don’t hide. Accept it. Accept the consequences of your actions. Accept your responsibility.”_

“Baralai, you must be the only person I know who could possibly get so tense over something like pleasure,” Brown eyes snap open at Gippal’s words and peek into his peripheral vision to see the Al Behd crossing his arms and exhaling deeply.

There is no anger on the sober face, nor is there any accusation; but Baralai still slays the hope growing in his chest as he waits for Gippal to continue.

“This is about last night, isn’t it?” Even though Baralai had not had any intention of looking at Gippal – he had been crying, after all, and he had not wanted his tears to sway Gippal’s judgement – the Al Behd’s words yank Baralai’s face towards him.

“How?” Baralai breathes the question as he stares at the unusually composed Al Behd, who promptly loses that (pretty cool, Baralai silently admits) composure when he notices Baralai’s face.

“Have you been crying?” A blue eye pops out of its socket, and Gippal’s mouth joins it on the floor.

“Shut up,” Baralai hisses with no heat behind the words as he begins scrubbing his face to remove the wet evidence only to freeze when arms wrap around his middle and pull him into a firm chest.

“Really, ‘Lai, I think you’re the only one who could ever behave this way,” Fondness coats each word as Gippal rubs the tension from Baralai’s back. “Going around crying. And for what? You act like it’s the end of the world, but last time I checked, Sin’s still gone and Vegnagun’s still destroyed. So, unless there’s some other superpower force threatening our lives, then the world is very much not ending.”

“This is not the time for jokes, Gippal,” Baralai snaps as he reluctantly yanks himself out of the warm embrace (that fortunately had not yet caused any problems). “I did something serious to you. So, it doesn’t matter if the world is fine, _I’m_ not. Gippal, for Yevon’s sake, I-I…”

The words die off as Baralai struggles to acknowledge his actions, but, even if the words don’t want to come, Baralai forces them out in a hoarse broken confession, “I…I t-took…ad-ad-advantage…of…of you.”

Brown eyes lower to the ground as Baralai hangs his head in shame while the words tower over him like a Behemoth.

Another silence descends before Gippal spits out a quick curse in Al Behd – one fortunately low enough Baralai can’t hear too well – before sighing and dragging a resisting Baralai back into his embrace, “‘Lai, sometimes I swear I can never understand what goes on in that head of yours. Honestly, ‘Lai, where do you get these things from?”

“But it’s the truth,” Baralai insists as he continues wiggling in Gippal’s embrace like a sulking dog, but Gippal merely tightens his arms.

“No, ‘Lai, it’s not,” Brown eyes fly up to Gippal’s face, and Baralai’s protests quietly submit at the somber expression. “I’m making this very clear for you, ‘Lai, so listen up: You. Did. Not. Take. Advantage. Of. Me.”

“But you were asleep,” Baralai weakly protests before falling silent at the arched eyebrow.

“Was I, ‘Lai?” A blue eye holds Baralai’s gaze as Gippal challenges Baralai’s understanding of the situation. “Was I really asleep?”

“You mean,” Trying to conceal the hope glimmering beneath his words, Baralai slowly grasps Gippal’s meaning. “You mean you weren’t asleep?”

“I wasn’t when you started touching me,” Gippal confesses, and, though a flush is coloring his sun-kissed cheeks, his voice remains as unwavering as his gaze.

“But,” Shaking his head and fighting off the wave of hope washing over him, Baralai tries to refute Gippal’s words, “you were sleep talking, and you only do that when you’re asleep.”

“I thought I only said phrases when I sleep talk, not actual sentences,” The blue eye twinkles as Gippal rejects Baralai’s explanation.

For once in two years, Baralai is left speechless as he surveys Gippal’s expression, searching for some sign of deceit yet finding none.

“So…So you were awake,” Baralai can only repeat the significance of Gippal’s words with wide eyes, “and…and that means I didn’t take advantage of you?”

“If you really had done that, ‘Lai, don’t you think I would’ve told you to stop?” Blonde hair moves as Gippal shakes his head while speaking. “If I really didn’t want it, ‘Lai, I would have said no and stopped you. But, hell, why would I stop you, ‘Lai?”

“I mean, pleasure is enjoyable no matter who it comes from, you know?” Gippal shrugs and averts his gaze as blood continues pooling in his cheeks before he returns his attention to Baralai while his voice drops to a husky whisper, “And, I know I enjoyed myself.”

Heat caresses Baralai’s own cheeks at the words – the _voice_ – but, fortunately, before he can focus on the effects they’re having on his body, Gippal speaks, though quietly and tersely.

“Unless…” The rest of the sentence fades away as Gippal lowers his arms and looks away, his jaw clenched while he forces the rest of the sentence out of his mouth, “unless you feel that-that way. That…that, you know…you’ve been t-taken ad…advantage of.”

Shock covers Baralai like his garment as he studies Gippal’s shuttered expression, and before he can properly consider his actions, Baralai wraps his arms around Gippal’s waist and pulls him close (though space still remains as Baralai is, unfortunately, sporting a small problem).

“How could that even be possible, Gippal? I was the one…” The warmth caressing Baralai’s cheeks burst into flames as brown eyes shyly avert from the Al Behd’s hopeful face. “W-Well…you know, d-doing th-the… _things_.”

Baralai pinches Gippal’s side when the man begins shaking with repressed laughter before continuing, “Anyway, that’s not – stop laughing! – that’s not the point. The point is that _I_ didn’t feel taken advantage of. I thought _you_ did.”

“You even cried over it,” Gippal teases as a calloused thumb brushes his tear-streaked face.

“Don’t be an ass,” Baralai grumbles as he bats the hand away. “I was very upset. It’s a natural response to cry when upset.”

“Big old baby,” Gippal chortles as he avoids the abuse Baralai attempts to lay upon his body. “Yes, yes, I understand. No teasing the baby about crying. Understood, understood.”

With another huff, Baralai rolls his eyes in exasperation before sobering, “So, is…is…is everything okay?”

What he really means to ask is, “Are _we_ okay?”  
Fortunately, Gippal perceives the true question, and with a carefree smile, he wraps his arm around Baralai’s shoulder and returns the embrace Baralai had forgotten he had initiated, “Yeah, we’re good, ‘Lai.”

Before Baralai can enjoy the relief soothing his mental wounds, Gippal’s smile turns predatory as he leans in and hums, “Though, between you and me, ‘Lai, you should do that a lot more often. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.”

With a honeyed smile, Baralai leans in…and then promptly punches Gippal in the gut.

The Al Behd stumbles back and wheezes as the Praetor smooths his garment before turning on his heels and serenely walking away from the whining man with a satisfied smile.

Honestly, what exactly does he see in that man to love him so?

Perhaps, though, the real question should be: what doesn’t he love about Gippal?

* * *

 _“Cleaning is underappreciated therapy,”_ Baralai hums as he settles the last cardboard box in the closet before closing the door. _“And, after this morning’s events, I can definitely use a moment of reprieve.”_

Stretching and exhaling when his back pops, Baralai scans the guest bedroom – now decluttered of the cardboard boxes he would have to review sometime soon before they pile up even more – one last time before flicking off the lights and heading towards his study, intent on completing the documents he had neglected yesterday.

The work is tedious, but Baralai appreciates the opportunity to extract himself from his personal problems to focus on the issues plaguing the changing Spira, and he doesn’t realize how late it has become until Gippal bursts through the door.

“I knew you’d be in here,” Gippal declares as he strolls towards Baralai before plucking the document out of his umber hands. “And this has got to be the most boring thing I’ve ever seen.”

“And what brings you here, Gippal?” Baralai sighs as he clasps his hands and waits for his Al Behd to explain his abrupt presence (and, hopefully, return the document he had pilfered). “I thought you went to the marketplace to check on the Machine Faction’s stall?”

“I did,” Gippal murmurs as he reviews the document before setting it back on the desk. “Everything’s going well. We’ve already found a few locations that seem ideal for a permanent shop.”

“That’s good news, then,” Baralai responds to the account as he reaches towards the document only for it to be snatched out of reach.

With an irate growl, brown eyes fly towards Gippal’s grinning expression as Baralai warns the other male, “Gippal.”

“Do you know what time it is, ‘Lai?” The question is flippantly asked as Gippal continues sliding the document out of Baralai’s reach.

“Time to get back to work?” Umber fingers swipe towards the document only to meet the wooden surface of the desk as Gippal, yet again, moves the document out of his reach.

“Dinner, ‘Lai,” Brown eyes narrow at Gippal’s honeyed voice. “You know, food to eat, so that you can have the energy to do the work you so desperately – for some odd reason - crave to do.”

“I am the Praetor, Gippal,” Baralai reminds the Al Behd with a heavy sigh as he finally reconciles with the fact that he is not going to get the document back. “I have a lot of work to do, and it is my responsibility to complete it.”

“You also have a responsibility towards yourself,” Gippal calmly argues as he releases the paper while his hip leans against the desk. “You matter, too, ‘Lai.”

 _“Such a low blow,”_ Baralai huffs to himself as his cheeks warm at the sincerity radiating from Gippal’s eye. _“He knows it, too.”_

And, as Baralai suspects, a triumphant grin colors Gippal’s lips before he speaks, “Glad we’re in agreement. Now, let’s have dinner. I’ll even cook for us.”

Although the idea clearly pleases Gippal, who concludes his sentence with a gleeful clap, it most definitely does not please Baralai, who has never shot so quickly out of his seat before than at the thought of Gippal cooking.

Of course, Gippal finds the whole event amusing, and as his laughter echoes from his study room, Baralai curses the Al Behd.

 _“That ass,”_ Shaking his head, Baralai enters the kitchen and instantly begins setting out the cookware and ingredients, not sparing even a single moment for Gippal to arrive and insist on helping.

 _“If helping is burning the food and possibly my home down,”_ Baralai adds as he pours some olive oil into a pan before dicing some vegetables. _“Yevon, I don’t even want to imagine what would become of my kitchen if Gippal tried cooking.”_

A shudder crawls down Baralai’s spine as he imagines a wasteland before shaking the image away, _“Best not to think about that. As long as Gippal doesn’t try to overestimate his abilities, everything will be fine.”_

“‘Lai, I don’t I’ve ever seen you run so fast befo-,” There’s still echoes of laughter in Gippal’s voice as he walks into the kitchen only to halt with his hands raising when Baralai whips around with the cutting knife.

“Don’t you dare burn down my kitchen,” Baralai waves the cutting knife to emphasize his threat as the bewildered Al Behd slowly nods his head.

“Wasn’t really in my plans to do so because a guy does have to eat,” A blue eye surveys the knife as a smile tugs at the corner of Gippal’s mouth; but, he (wisely) represses it as he solemnly continues, “but, yes, I will not dare burn down your kitchen, ‘Lai. Pinky promise.”

Harrumphing, a satisfied Baralai returns to the task of cooking dinner while Gippal sets the table. They fall into a companionable silence as they wait for their food to cook, but even that silence is occasionally broken by their banter.

“You should still give me a chance, you know,” Gippal argues, with no other desire than to argue, from the countertop he is perched on. “Who knows? Maybe I’ve improved.”

“Go show your improvement somewhere that doesn’t involve my kitchen,” Baralai is steadfast in his declaration that Gippal not destroy his very beloved kitchen.

“Oh, so anywhere in your house is okay as long as it’s not the kitchen?” Brown flames engulf Gippal as Baralai glares at the smirking Al Behd.

“Try it and see if I keep feeding you,” Food truly is an excellent incentive for behavioral management, as Gippal quickly closes his mouth when Baralai threatens to deprive him of it. “That’s better.”

Scooping the food onto the plates, he hands one to Gippal – who hurriedly grabs the offer, tucks it close to his chest, and dashes into the dining room, as if Baralai would actually make good on that threat – before entering the dining room himself. Dinner is a quiet affair – if quiet can describe the food fight that broke out between the two over who had defeated the hardest fiends in the Crimson Squad – and ends with Baralai (and his poor garments) needing a wash.

However, when Baralai steps out of the shower and into his room, he does not find an empty room, as he expects to, but an inhabited one.

“Gippal, what are you doing here?” Tilting his head to the side, Baralai observes the figure sprawled over his bed while absentmindedly placing the wet towel in the hamper. “Is something wrong with the guest bedroom?”

“No lights,” The response is muffled by the pillows Gippal has his head buried in, but Baralai is able to grasp the meaning.

“What do you mean there’s no lights?” Confusion coats Baralai’s face as he moves toward his bed. “I know for a fact there are lights in the bedroom.”

“They’re not working,” Gippal clarifies, coherently this time, as he lifts his head from the pillows.

“But, they were working earlier,” Baralai argues as a frown unveils the confusion coursing through Baralai’s mind. “I know I was able to turn them on and off when I cleaned out the room.”

“They’re not working now,” Gippal shrugs his shoulders as if this isn’t a big deal.

" _Which it very much is,”_ Baralai internally insists as his frown becomes deeper _. “If there’s no lights, Gippal can’t sleep in that room, which means he’ll have to sleep with **me** ; and look how well that turned out.”_

Shaking his head to remove the self-deprecating thought – and landing a few water droplets on Gippal given his contorted expression – Baralai exits the room and heads towards the guest bedroom.

However, when Baralai flicks the light switch up, nothing drives the darkness in the room away.

“Told you,” Gippal murmurs behind Baralai, but he doesn’t seem displeased that Baralai had actually checked; instead, he appears rather expectant. “They’re just not working for some reason. Maybe a shortage occurred, but it didn’t happen until after you left the room.”

“Maybe,” Baralai reluctantly agrees as he inspects the dark room before turning around. “Even though they’re not as great as actual lights, I do have candles-”

“I couldn’t find them,” A blue eye steadily holds Baralai’s gaze as Gippal interrupts his suggestion.

“Did you check in the hallway closet?” Baralai questions while he moves towards the hallway closet, and his heart sinks with every step as the dread pulls it into its sandy depths.

Gippal makes a positive noncommittal noise as he follows behind the Praetor, who yanks (harder than necessary, but he’s desperate) the door open. Brown eyes quickly scan the contents and then inspect the closet’s inside a second time as he hopes he had simply overlooked the items. Yet, no matter how many times Baralai surveys the closet, no matter how many items he shuffles around to see better into the back, he cannot find the candles.

“That’s strange,” Baralai murmurs, more to himself than his companion, as he ceases his search. “I really did think I had some candles in here; and I know I didn’t put them somewhere else. Perhaps I was mistaken. Maybe I don’t actually have any candles, or maybe I ran out of the supply without realizing.”

“I honestly don’t mind, ‘Lai,” Gippal interrupts Baralai’s conjectures as the Al Behd closes the closet door. “I’ll just sleep with you again tonight.”

“Assuming, that is, you don’t mind?” A blue eye intensely scrutinizes Baralai, and, though Gippal for all intents and purposes appears confident, the Praetor detects the insecurity lying underneath the projection.

 _“It’s not that I mind,”_ Baralai confesses to himself. _“Yevon, I don’t mind **at all**. And that’s the problem. I don’t mind because I **want** to sleep in the same bed as Gippal. I want to sleep by him, **with** him.”_

 _“And that’s why I didn’t want to share a bed again,”_ It is easier to admit the truth to himself than to Gippal, who continues to wait for his response. _“I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. I don’t want to succumb to my desires and risk our friendship. I don’t want to lose Gippal because I couldn’t control myself.”_

Before Baralai can continue his disheartening thoughts, Gippal whispers, “I’ll just…sleep on the couch.”

Brown eyes jerk to the shuttered face, but Baralai clearly sees the hurt whimpering from the blue eye. It’s all Baralai needs to make a decision.

“No,” Baralai is pleased with how steady his voice is, “you’re not sleeping on the couch, Gippal. You can sleep with me.”

“Are you certain?” Gippal studies Baralai’s face with a rare frown forming on his normally exuberant face. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, ‘Lai. Really. As long as you’re comfortable, then I have no problems doing that.”

“No,” Shaking his head, Baralai remains steadfast in his decision. “You’re sleeping with me, Gippal, and that’s final.”

 _“And I won’t make a mistake this time,”_ Baralai silently adds as he turns and walks towards his bedroom, and a smile eases the frown tugging at his face when he hears uncertain footsteps following behind him. _“I won’t do anything to ruin my friendship with Gippal. I won’t sacrifice him – sacrifices **us** – ever again.”_

Once they enter his bedroom, Baralai prepares the bed while Gippal brushes his teeth, and Baralai forces his breathing to remain steady as his heart spikes when Gippal lifts up the covers to join him.

“You certain you’re good with this, ‘Lai?” An escape is offered, but Baralai shakes his head and gives Gippal a small smile.

“I’m certain, Gippal,” Baralai reassures his former teammate as much as he assures himself.

A blue eye surveys Baralai’s face before Gippal finally nods and slips under the covers.

“You can keep the light on, if you aren’t sleepy yet,” Although his eye is closed, Gippal’s voice sounds alert, which Baralai can relate to.

 _“How am I even supposed to sleep when he’s next to me?”_ Baralai wonders as panic grips his heart before he inhales and exhales. _“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to keep my promise and not do a single thing.”_

With that steely promise, Baralai shuts off the night lamp and settles into the covers. Brown eyes flutter close while Baralai counts his trembling breaths as he tries to ignore the enticing heat radiating at his side, but just that awareness of Gippal’s proximity makes it difficult for Baralai to relax his rigid body.

It also doesn’t help that, in act to release the tension, when Baralai stretches his legs, he accidentally brushes against Gippal’s legs.

“S-Sorry,” Baralai immediately apologizes into the silent room as he quickly slides his leg back towards his side of the bed.

“‘Lai,” Gippal’s voice is gruff with some emotion, but Baralai doesn’t get the chance to discover it when Gippal sighs before speaking again. “We’re good, ‘Lai. Don’t be so tense. Just…just relax.”

“How?” The question is out of Baralai’s mouth before he can stop it, and he grimaces as his lewd mind suggests several ways they could _relax_.

Silence enters the room and fills it with its murky depths for several moments before Gippal’s voice tugs Baralai out of its current, “Come here.”

“Where?” A frown burrows between Baralai’s eyebrows as he puzzles over Gippal’s gentle command before it disappears as Gippal pulls him to his side.

However, just as quick as the hands had come, they retract back to their owner, and it takes a moment for Baralai to realize the significance of the movement.

 _“He’s giving me a choice,”_ Baralai voices his realization to himself, _“I can flip over and have my back against his chest; he can flip over and have his back against my chest; we can sleep side-by-side; or, I can lay my head on his chest.”_

Although he made himself a promise to not do anything, and although he knows contact will only make him susceptible to his desires, Baralai can’t resist the opportunity to curl around Gippal’s side as he nestles his head on the rising and falling chest.

Baralai’s decision is immediately rewarded when a content – and is that relief Baralai detects? – sigh falls from Gippal’s lips before the Al Behd wraps an arm around the Praetor and hums quietly, “Much better.”

Baralai agrees completely.

* * *

12:17 PM.

Drooping brown eyes continue to stare at the red numbers as his slumbering brain tries to make sense of their significance.

12:17 PM

A yawn pops out of Baralai’s mouth as he stretches his languid body before he flips back over and nestles into the warm body wrapped around him.

 _“12:17 PM,”_ The numbers revolve around his head as his eyes flutter close while his body melts into his companion. _“12:17 PM.”_

“Good morning to you, too,” A husky voice teases as Baralai buries himself deeper into Gippal’s chest. “Though, I suppose I should say, good afternoon.”

“G’d afternoon,” Baralai mumbles as he starts to fall back into sleep’s embrace before his eyes snap open and his body jerks up. “Afternoon? My paperwork!”

However, before Baralai can haphazardly rush out of bed and dress himself to begin working, an arm gently presses against his chest and stills him.

“It’s already late, ‘Lai,” Gippal reasons as he continues halting Baralai’s progress. “Why not just take the day off? You need a break every now and then, you know?”

“But-” Baralai protests even as his body begins leaning back into the bed.

“No buts,” Gippal’s voice is steel as he removes his arm from Baralai’s chest to wrap around the Praetor’s middle. “You’ve been overworking yourself for far too long, ‘Lai. You need a break.”

Melting into the warm embrace, Baralai hums in agreement, “Just today, though.”

“Deal,” As brown eyes flutter back close, Baralai knows he doesn’t need to see to feel the satisfied smile pressed into his hair.

They remain in bed for another half hour, with Baralai flitting between consciousness and unconsciousness, before Gippal’s rumbling stomach demands they begin their day – and with food, preferably.

“Why don’t we get something at the marketplace?” Gippal’s question lingers in the air as the Al Behd dresses while Baralai brushes his teeth. “That way you get a break from cooking.”

A tingling warmth spreads throughout Baralai’s chest at the other male’s consideration, and he doesn’t hide his smile as he answers, “I’d like that. Besides, I want to get a few things for dinner tonight. We need candles, too.”

“What do we need candles for?” Gippal inquiries from his place at the bathroom threshold, watching Baralai dry his mouth and comb his hair.

“Your bedroom, Gippal,” Baralai rolls his eyes as he reminds the Al Behd of the guest bedroom’s situation while checking his reflection. “You don’t have any lights in that room, so I’ll pick up some candles today for you.”

“I prefer your room, though,” The smile on Baralai’s lips widens as he finally turns to the pouting man.

“Yes, my room is very comfortable,” Baralai agrees as he steps around Gippal and into his bedroom, “but so is the guest bedroom.”

“You’re supposed to say, “Then stay in my bedroom for as long as you like,”” Baralai throws a pillow at Gippal’s poor imitation of his voice, which only makes the other male chortle as he heads into the bathroom.

“Please don’t stay for as long as you like,” Baralai contradicts, and the smirk that had replaced his smile grows when Gippal squawks in indignation.

Fortunately, the Al Behd can only make rude gestures as he begins brushing his teeth, which Baralai blissfully ignores as he makes the bed and puts on his shoes.

With their morning ritual complete (along with the daily grumblings of a playful Al Behd), the two former Crimson Squad members set out for the marketplace. Their first stop is at a food vendor, where Gippal purchases cotton candy - much to the Praetor’s dismay, who proceeds to lecture him about the importance of eating healthy, though the Al Behd ignores him with a mischievous grin – and then they head towards the produce vendors, where they purchase several (nutritious, since Gippal clearly insists on eating poorly) products, before finally collecting some candles.

“I really don’t need these, ‘Lai,” Gippal argues as Baralai picks up several long candles and inspects their texture.

“Yes, Gippal, you do,” Another sigh, this one speckled with the exasperation the Praetor is beginning to feel as the argument drags on, escapes Baralai’s mouth as he places the candles before the seller. “How else are you supposed to see if you don’t have light?”

“I could just sleep with you,” Gippal huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You need your own bed – thank you,” Baralai begins responding before he’s distracted by vendor giving him change, and once the transaction has been complete, Baralai returns his focus to the sulking Al Behd. “You can’t keep sleeping with me, Gippal, because you need your own bed. My bed’s not big enough for us both.”

“Get a bigger bed then, if you feel that way,” Gippal grumbles, and Baralai rolls his eyes before shaking his head.

“A bed is expensive, Gippal,” Baralai reasons with the stubborn man as he exits the stall and begins heading back home. “Besides, the one I have now is sufficient-”

“Exactly! It’s good for both of us,” Gippal insists as he falls into step with Baralai.

“Sufficient for _me_ ,” Baralai finishes as he ignores Gippal’s interruption (though he does give him a pointed glare).

The only response Baralai receives is another grumble, but, finally, the Al Behd ceases his complaints and they return to Baralai’s home in silence. Before Baralai can soothe the irate man, though, Gippal snatches the bag of candles from his arm and stalks towards the guest bedroom.

 _“You would think he’d be happy to have his own bed,”_ Baralai puffs as he removes the ingredients from the bags and begins prepping dinner, which would take a few hours, _“but, instead, he’s angry. Why does he even want to keep sleeping in the same bed as me?”_

Although irritation nibbles at Baralai’s heart, guilt also makes an appearance when he recalls Gippal’s sulking expression, and Baralai curses his soft heart before he begins setting out other ingredients, these to make the rolls Gippal loves so much.

 _“I’ll just him a plate of these,”_ Umber hands begin mixing the ingredients before rolling out the dough. _“That’ll make things better between us.”_

Once the rolls are in the oven and dinner’s cooking, Baralai stands in the middle of his kitchen as he wonders what to do, _“It’s been so long since I last took a break that I don’t even know what to do with myself. What does one even do on a break?”_

Absentmindedly biting his bottom lip, Baralai contemplates a way to pass the time before recalling a book he had started reading, _“That’s right. I haven’t had the chance to finish that book. Mostly because I don’t have time to read, and when I do have time to read, it’s to help me get to sleep, but I’ve been working late into the nights recently that I’ve always been too tired to do anything except sleep.”_

Nodding his head, Baralai grabs the book from his room and settles in the living room before cracking the book open and resuming it. Although he is interrupted once by the timer for the rolls, Baralai is actually able to devour the majority of book, and he doesn’t realize how many hours have passed until a – satisfied - Gippal plops beside him.

“Do I smell rolls?” A blue eye zooms in on Baralai’s face as the Praetor reluctantly pulls his attention from the book.

“Indeed,” Baralai nods as he bookmarks his spot before getting up and entering the kitchen. “I made them for you.”

“For me?” Following like a dog who knows he’s getting a treat, Gippal enters the kitchen and cocks his head in a combination of confusion and hope. “They’re _all_ for me?”

“All for you,” A smile curls over Baralai’s lips as he places the warm rolls on a plate and hands it to Gippal, whose blue eye widens as he holds the plate reverently. “I know you were upset earlier, so I decided to make these.”

“I love you so much, ‘Lai,” Gippal mock sniffles as he dabs his blue eye, much to the Praetor’s amusement. “You treat me so well.”

A chuckle bubbles out of Baralai as he shakes his head and checks their dinner, “Well, I’m glad you’re happy now.”

“Don’t worry, ‘Lai,” The words are slightly muffled by the rolls Gippal is, no doubt, stuffing in his mouth. “It’s all good now.”

“Good,” Baralai hadn’t realized how concerned he actually was until relief wrapped its arms around him. “I’m glad.”

Stirring the food one last time, Baralai sets the wooden spoon down and returns to the living room, Gippal at his heels, before resuming his book. The couch dips on the other side of Baralai as Gippal sits next to him, and while the Al Behd happily munches on his appetizers, Baralai continues reading.

A companionable silence fills the room, but it is broken momentarily by Gippal setting his plate on the coffee table before he stretches out along the couch and rests his head in Baralai’s lap.

“You mind?” Brown eyes fly to Gippal’s serene expression when the Al Behd makes his position known.

Uncertainty begins tugging Baralai into its cold arms, but as Baralai observes the man in his lap, his heart swells and the hesitation melts away.

“No,” Baralai whispers as he gently rests a hand in Gippal’s hair before his eyes return to his book. “I don’t mind at all.”

Baralai receives a noncommittal noise that widens the smile on his lips before he concentrates on his reading material, his hand occasionally carding through Gippal’s golden locks much to the Al Behd’s pleasure, and the two enjoy the tranquil atmosphere that fills the room.

Even when the food is finally ready, the peace sparkling in the air follows them into the dining room, and it remains until Gippal speaks.

“You look a lot better, ‘Lai,” Gippal hums around a spoonful of food, and the Praetor throws a napkin at the ill-mannered man, who only smirks and opens his mouth filled with chewed food.

“I’d be even better if I didn’t see someone’s food,” Baralai retorts with a grin before honestly responding to Gippal’s remark. “Still, you’re right. I don’t know about my appearance, but I do feel better. I guess I was overworking myself.”

“You were,” There’s no hesitation in Gippal’s agreement as the blonde male finishes his first plate before taking a drink and wiping his mouth (much to Baralai’s pleasure) with the napkin the Praetor had playfully thrown at him.

Ducking his chin into his garment to hide his smile, Baralai clears his throat before resuming his peaceful dinner.

Of course, though, peace can never last.

Brown eyes rise from Baralai’s plate and blink, blood rushing to umber cheeks, when they catch an intense blue stare.

“Wh-What?” The heat flares over Baralai’s cheeks as his stutter belies his embarrassment at the scrutiny. “Is something on my face?”

Although Gippal shakes his head, he doesn’t respond to the question, but instead he murmurs in a husky voice, “Fryd E muja dra sucd ypuid nekrd huf ec caaehk oui muug cu namyqat yht rybbo. E fuimt keja yhodrehk du syga cina oui ymfyoc vamd drec fyo.” (What I love the most about right now is seeing you look so relaxed and happy. I would give anything to make sure you always felt this way)

The equilibrium Baralai’s body had finally managed to achieve is utterly destabilized as arousal plows its way through Baralai’s body.

With reddening cheeks and labored breathing, Baralai doesn’t mince his harsh tone as he snaps at the Al Behd, “Don’t say a word.”

A blue eye widens at the sudden hostility before narrowing in speculation, but Baralai doesn’t notice these minor details as he frantically wills his erection away.

“Did you forget Al Behd?” The question yanks Baralai from his hardening problem and towards Gippal, whose head is cocked to the side. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Very much like his persistent arousal, Baralai can feel his control of the situation slipping through his fingers as Gippal continues, his voice gentle and empathetic, “You know, ‘Lai, it’s perfectly okay if you forgot. It has been two years, after all. You can’t expect yourself to remember a code you don’t have much use for.”

Baralai struggles to comprehend – and regain control of - the situation, but Gippal continues moving forward as he claps the umber man’s arm with a toothy grin, “Never you fear, though. Master Gippal is here to save the day and is more than happy to re-teach you.”

Terror claws Baralai’s skin at the suggestion, and he frantically tries to defuse the situation, “Gippal, wait-”

However, the Al Behd darts from the room before Baralai can even finish his sentence, and he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll go prepare.”

 _“Never has a sentence incited so much dread as that sentence does,”_ Baralai bemoans as he gazes at the empty seat that somehow seems to foreshadow his upcoming demise. _“Is time travel an option yet? I’d like to go back to prevent this from ever happening.”_

Unfortunately, time travel is not an option, so Baralai resorts to his last option, _“Please, please, **please** , Yevon, let Gippal be teasing. **Please**.”_

As Baralai finds out the following morning, though, Gippal in fact is not teasing.

He also belatedly realizes that he must have done something to wrong Yevon for him to torture Baralai so ruthlessly.

He can’t help but forlornly wonder: is it too late to repent?

* * *

“No,” Baralai is adamant as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the Al Behd seated across from him. “I don’t need this, Gippal.”

“We haven’t even begun, ‘Lai, and you’ve already given up,” Gippal calmly responds, his tone even and his blue eye glittering, which is a sure sign that the next remark would provoke the Praetor (and, whenever it comes to Gippal, Baralai is often correct in his assumptions), “Who knew Praetors were made of such soft qualities?”

“Who are you calling soft?” Brown eyes narrow into daggers that Baralai gleefully throws at Gippal’s smug expression. “Stop distracting me, Gippal. I don’t need this lesson. Contrary to the current belief, I do in fact remember Al Behd.”

“Really?” A winged eyebrow arches up into a blonde hairline as Gippal scrutinizes the glaring Praetor, who fought against the oncoming onslaught of a blush at the intense blue stare. “Prove it: say something in Al Behd.”

“So hysa ec Baralai,” (My name is Baralai) The words tumble of Baralai’s mouth like children eavesdropping on an adult conversation before smoothing themselves as his tongue refamiliarizes itself with the code.

“A three-year-old could say that, ‘Lai,” Displeasure darkens the sky in Gippal’s eye as he dismisses Baralai’s evidence, much to the Praetor’s irritation. “That doesn’t prove you know Al Behd.”

“Well then, what exactly do you want me to do to prove myself, Gippal?” Fury oozes from the words flying from Baralai’s lips like saliva from an Earth Worm.

Silence descends in the study as Gippal observes the irate Praetor before calmly answering, “Comprehension.”

Fear tears into Baralai’s body like a pack of Lupines attacking simultaneously. He can’t do that. He _can’t_. Comprehension doesn’t just mean speaking – it means _listening_ ; and, listening means he wouldn’t be the only one speaking Al Behd.

“N-No,” The trembling words immediately spring from Baralai’s quivering lips as he protests the idea. “I-I’m not doing that. Being able to speak a sentence, no matter how simple it may be, still shows I know Al Behd.”

Stormy clouds gather in Gippal’s blue eye as his lips thin into a firm line, and his jaw clenches with clear ire.

No words are spoken as Baralai remains steadfast in his decision, and the room is submerged in the palpable tension between the two men.

Gippal is the first to break the silence, but he’s also the first to add fuel to the tension, “Fro yna oui cu ubbucat du drec, Baralai?” (Why are you so opposed to this, Baralai?)

The breath of an Adamantine would be much preferable to the sudden heat consuming Baralai’s body.

Forcing his trembling legs to stand, forcing his shuddering body to remain still, forcing his hazy brain to focus on forming words instead of on the pulsing in his nether regions, forcing his wavering voice to operate, Baralai hisses with as much composure as he can muster against the smoke of lust suffocating him, “I am not doing this with you, Gippal.”

Whipping on his heels, Baralai stalks for the door and manages to pull the frame open before it slams close as Gippal corners Baralai against the wooden surface. Brown eyes immediately dart away from the grim expression coloring Gippal’s tan face as the Praetor stubbornly turns his head to the side, not wanting to see the Al Behd’s (handsome, touchable) face as much as he doesn’t want his own flushed face to be seen.

Clenching his eyes shut, Baralai tries to steady his labored breathing while shuffling as much of his body - especially his lower half; Yevon please do not let Gippal feel just how excited his proximity is making Baralai - away from Gippal’s invasive presence, but his mind completely forgets to defend the most sensitive part.

Only when a warm air brushes against the shell of his ear does Baralai remember to defend that particular appendage, but before he can cover the already tingling flesh, Gippal’s soft husky voice attacks, “Fro yna oui cu vmicdanat, ‘Lai?” (Why are you so flustered, ‘Lai?)

Like finally managing to pierce through an iron giant’s impenetrable armor, Gippal’s voice renders Baralai immobile as all his defenses shatter, and he doesn’t have time to repair the broken pieces before the sounds, the _desires_ , finally break free from their prison cells and make themselves known – and loudly.

He moans.

It’s a mortifying sound that, unfortunately, cannot be mistaken for anything else, and it certainly can’t be ignored in the silent study room.

Shame immediately snares Baralai between its Lupine teeth, and all it takes is one look at Gippal’s shocked face for Baralai to slip underneath the arm blocking his exit.

He yanks the door open and flees, not daring to look back; and, when Gippal doesn’t follow him, Baralai can’t tell if Yevon is finally showing him some mercy or reminding him that his desires were not reciprocated and, very much like his love, unrequited.

* * *

He manages to hide from Gippal – first in his study room, day off be damned, and then his bathroom – until he steps out of the shower.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” Terror drips from every word like blood as Baralai stares at the blonde form laying on his bed.

Lifting his head from Baralai’s pillows, a blue eye gazes at the rigid Praetor and lets a pregnant silence waddle into the room.

 _“Please don’t ask about earlier,”_ Baralai mentally beseeches Gippal as he grips his towel as if it were his lance. _“Please, please don’t ask. Don’t ask why I moaned. Don’t ask why I’m attracted to you. Don’t ask if it’s more than lust. Just **don’t ask**. Please, Gippal.”_

So lost is Baralai in his pleas that it takes him a moment to realize Gippal has spoken, “What did you say?”

“The bed’s broken,” Gippal calmly repeats himself as he continues holding Baralai’s baffled gaze. “In the guest bedroom.”

“What?” Blinking as his mind struggles to comprehend Gippal’s words, Baralai gapes at Gippal and all his embarrassment – all his fear – momentarily disappears. “The bed is what?”

“Broken,” Gippal enunciates each letter as his head falls back on top of the pillow. “The bed is broken.”

“But,” Baralai shakes his head in disbelief as he interrogates the nonchalant Al Behd, “the bed was fine yesterday.”

“Did you sit on it?” The question is lazily asked, but Gippal lifts his head up to pin Baralai with a stare.

“Well, no,” Baralai reluctantly admits as he lowers the towel, his fingers loosening on the white fabric. “I didn’t sit on the bed. But, how did it break?”

“The mattress seems to be caving in around the middle,” Just as his question is flippant Gippal’s explanation is insouciant, and the Al Behd stands up before stretching and entering the bathroom. “You can check if you’d like.”

The door is the only thing Baralai is able to speak to after Gippal shuts himself inside the bathroom, and the protests springing to his lips abruptly die when he’s the only habitant left in the room.

 _“How exactly did the bed break?”_ Baralai puzzles over the matter while mindlessly putting his towel in the hamper – and making an unconscious mental note to do wash soon – and walking towards his bed. _“It looked fine when I cleaned out the room.”_

Baralai takes a hair dryer out of his night table and plugs the machina in before drying his wet silver hair, though his attention remains on the bed situation, _“I wasn’t lying to Gippal, either. I hadn’t sat on the bed because I assumed it was okay.”_

 _“To be fair, though,”_ The blaring noise from the hair dryer drowns out the water running in the bathroom as Baralai continues contemplating the guest bed, _“I don’t have guests over often, so I don’t use the guest bedroom much, and I haven’t renovated that room, either. It’s possible that the mattress simply reached the end of its life span.”_

 _“But did it have to be now?”_ Baralai sighs as his inner voice becomes whiny before shaking his head and switching off the hair dryer. _“Well, it doesn’t matter if the mattress is broken now or later. The situation is still going to be the same: we’re going to have to sleep in the same bed again.”_

 _“There’s just a tiny problem,”_ The thoughts continue to surface as Baralai makes the final fixes to his hair in the mirror. _“How do I keep Gippal from asking about earlier?”_

Before Baralai can consider a solution, the bathroom door opens – steam rushing into the bedroom – and Gippal walks out with a towel slung around his neck.

“Hey!” Baralai intervenes, halting Gippal from throwing himself on top of the bed. “What about your hair?”

“What about it?” Cocking his head to the side, Gippal’s face scrunches up in adorable confusion.

“It’s wet, Gippal,” An exasperated sigh falls from Baralai’s lips as he crosses his arms over chest. “You need to dry it properly.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Tan hands wave the towel in front of the Praetor to emphasize his words. “Besides, it’s only a little wet. It’s not a big deal.”

 _“It really isn’t,”_ Baralai silently confesses as he uncrosses his arms, _“but he could get sick if his hair is not completely dry.”_

 _“Besides,”_ A plan begins forming in Baralai’s mind as he considers the situation, _“if I focus on drying Gippal’s hair, then he won’t have any time to ask me about earlier.”_

Baralai’s head bobbing up and down is the only warning Gippal gets before the Al Behd is tugged down onto the bed and a hair blower is aimed at his head.

“I said it was okay, ‘Lai,” Gippal calls over the booming noise, but the Praetor ignores his protests and concentrates on rotating the hair dryer while sifting his hands through the soft blonde locks.

Umber hands gently tilt Gippal’s head sideways as Baralai moves the hair dryer towards a particularly wet patch, combing the hair apart so the hot air reaches every lock, before progressing to the other side of the head.

 _“It’s working,”_ A triumphant smile graces Baralai’s lips as he notes the quiet Al Behd, and his smile unconsciously widens when Gippal not only leans his head into Baralai’s hand but also hums (purrs) in pleasure.

“Your hands feel great,” A content sigh follows Gippal’s words, and flames kiss Baralai’s cheeks as the Praetor puffs out his chest in pride, though he doesn’t respond.

Although it only takes a few minutes to completely dry Gippal’s hair, Baralai can’t help but prolong the moment as he enjoys tangling his hand in the golden locks and the little hums reverberating from the Al Behd’s body.

“There,” Baralai reluctantly retracts his hand from Gippal’s head as he switches off the hair dryer. “All done. Don’t you feel better now?”

A hooded blue eye sleepily gazes at him as the other man makes a noncommittal sound before falling on top of the bed, much to the Praetor’s amusement.

“Come on, Gippal,” He gently pushes the taller male over so he can lift up the covers, “let’s get you under the covers.”

While it takes some maneuvering, Baralai manages to slide the prone body underneath the covers before shutting off the light and settling himself in bed. Once the room is submerged in night, brown eyes flutter close as Baralai opens his arms to welcome sleep, though it alludes him. The Praetor is persistent, though, and, with setting a rhythm of inhaling steady breaths, Baralai keeps his body still as he waits for sleep.

However, it isn’t sleep that greets him, but Gippal’s arms, which suddenly wrap around his middle and pulls his body closer.

“G-Gippal,” The squeak evokes instant embarrassment as Baralai flips over to gaze up at the Al Behd before steadying his voice and resuming, “What are you doing?”

“Like cuddles,” The sentence is incoherent enough for Baralai to know Gippal is falling asleep, but the words are as lucid as the arm tightening around his middle.

A frown burrows its way between Baralai’s eyes as he observes the dozing man before surrendering himself to the desires urging him to return the embrace.

 _“At least he isn’t asking about earlier,”_ The Praetor offers the crumbs as a payment for his weakness. _“That’s a win to me, at least.”_

However, that win is short lived when Baralai is jolted into awareness as warm air caresses his ear, “Oui yna cu hud vyen, ‘Lai. Oui syta sa cmaabo nippehk so ryen mega oui tet dryd E vunkad ymm ypuid so ehlnatepma bymh uv catildeuh.” (You’re so not fair, ‘Lai. You made me sleepy rubbing my hair like you did that I forgot all about my incredible plan of seduction.)

His body trembles as the words sensually slide down his heated form before curling between his quivering legs, which were cradling his straining arousal, but when Baralai opens his mouth to question Gippal – to make sense of the situation, the behavior, the _words_ \- what comes out instead is a moan.

The mortifying sound evokes a throaty chuckle from Gippal before his (terrible, beautiful) sonorous voice begins again, “Ujanraydat? Ujanfungat? Naymmo, ‘Lai, yc ev E luimt hud caa fryd drec fyc tuehk du oui-fryd **_E_** fyc tuehk du oui?” (Overheated? Overworked? Really, ‘Lai, as if I couldn’t see what this was doing to you-what _I_ was doing to you?)

The Praetor squirms against the hot body pressed against his back - knowing that he should stop Gippal, should stop _himself_ \- but he has neither the willpower nor the desire to break free from Gippal’s embrace.

All Baralai can do is whimper as Gippal’s husky voice continues teasing his flushed ear, “Tu oui ghuf ruf muhk E ryja tnaysat ypuid tuehk drec fedr oui – ruf muhk E ryja fyhdat du pa fedr oui mega drec?” (Do you know how long I have dreamed about doing this with you - how long I have wanted to be with you like this?)

Before Baralai can grasp the words’ meanings and make sense of their predicament, white light flashes across his eyes as his body quakes with the intensity of his orgasm, but the cry that shoots through the air reassures him that he isn’t the only one blinded by ecstasy.

When Baralai returns from his euphoric journey, he does not roll over and cuddle into Gippal’s back as he had done before, and he certainly does not go to sleep.

Brown eyes pierce Gippal’s gratified expression as the Praetor turns towards the panting man, “Wh-Why…”  
Baralai clears his hoarse throat, his warm cheeks heating up again as a fond smile colors Gippal’s lips, before he continues more steadily though quietly, “Why did you do that, Gippal?”

A blue eye studies Baralai’s face before a tan hand reaches up and cradles Baralai’s cheek, “Because I love you.”

“Wh-What?” Shock slams into Baralai as he instinctively jerks his head from Gippal’s hand. “Wh-What did you say?”

“I love you,” Gippal earnestly repeats as he returns his hand to Baralai’s cheek, chuckling as the umber man’s mouth falls open before promptly closing. “What? Is it so surprising that I love you too?”

“Wh-What do you mean?” Brown eyes rapidly blink as Baralai gapes at the Al Behd.

“Is it just lust, then?” A frown appears between Gippal’s eyebrows as he caresses Baralai’s cheek before it disappears as he shrugs. “Well, something can be born out of that, I suppose. I’ll just have to work on making you love me.”

“Wait, no, I,” Pink lips snap shut as Baralai silences himself before inhaling deeply as he attempts to reassemble his scrambled thoughts. “Give me a moment, please.”

A blue eye softens as Gippal obeys, though he continues touching Baralai’s cooling cheek, which is both a comfort but also a distraction. Not that Baralai is going to tell him to stop.

 _“Is this really happening?”_ Baralai wonders with awe as he stares at Gippal while he composes his thoughts. _“This isn’t some dream, is it? I have had fantasies, of course, where Gippal returns my feelings, but I haven’t had a dream like that in years; and those dreams certainly didn’t feel **this** real.”_

“I’m,” Baralai halts himself as he organizes his words before resuming quietly, “I’m not dreaming, right?”

“Do you dream about me often?” Gippal teases only to groan when Baralai punches his chest. “Maybe I should ask if you punch me often in your dreams.”

“Sometimes,” A smile tugs at Baralai’s lips, but he suppresses it as he focuses on the wheezing man still before him. “So, then, you’re real.”

“Please don’t hit me again to check,” A blue eye begs for mercy as Gippal rubs his abused chest.

Rolling his eyes, Baralai shakes his head before sobering as finally asks the question, “How long…how long have you known?”

“Known that you were violent?” Tan hands immediately thrust in front of Gippal’s body to shield it as brown flames sear his face. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

“Gippal,” Baralai warns as he continues glaring at the grinning man, “be serious.”

“How long have I known you love me?” Gippal clarifies, and, after receiving an affirmative nod, he lowers his head before answering. “Honestly, ‘Lai, I thought you were like me. I thought you just started loving me.”

“So, you didn’t know,” A sigh of relief flies from Baralai’s mouth as the Praetor marginally relaxes. “That’s good. I would have hated to make you feel terrible for not being able to return my feelings.”

“How long exactly have you loved me, ‘Lai?” Gone is the smile, and it its place is thin lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Although Baralai is tempted to lie, to dismiss the question, he finds it impossible to do so because things were different this time. Baralai hadn’t initiated the sexual activity, Gippal had. Baralai hadn’t confessed his feelings, Gippal had.

Gippal had said he loved him.

Not as a friend, as a _person_.

Why should Baralai keep hiding the truth, then?

“About two years,” Baralai shrugs as he averts his gaze and picks at the cover’s threads. “I don’t really know when I fell in love with you. It just…it just happened naturally, and I just gradually became aware of it.”

There’s a quick burst of Al Behd code – one that earns Gippal a glare as Baralai’s cheeks (and body) heat up - before the blonde man speaks with remorse covering every word, “I had no idea you felt that way about me, ‘Lai. I never…I mean, I never even considered that you saw me as anything other than your teammate and friend.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Sincerity gleams from Gippal’s eye as he cradles Baralai’s cheek, “but I meant what I said, ‘Lai, I do love you.”

All it takes is for Baralai to hear those words again for him to finally accept that this is in fact reality before he raises his shaking hand to reverently press against Gippal’s jaw, “I…I love you, too.”

A blinding smile appears on Gippal’s face at the words before he tangles his fingers in Baralai’s silver hair and tugs the Praetor’s face closer; but, before their lips can meet, Baralai suddenly recalls Gippal’s earlier words and shoves a hand between their mouths.

“I mean, I can kiss your hand if you want,” Gippal offers as he removes his lips from Baralai’s palm.

“Gippal,” A honey smile paints Baralai’s lips as he wraps his hand around Gippal’s night clothes and pulls the weary Al Behd close, “what exactly is this “incredible plan of seduction” you mentioned?”

“I was so hoping you didn’t realize what I was saying,” Gippal whimpers as his face pales.

“Just because I’m not in a state to respond doesn’t mean I’m not aware of what you’re saying,” Baralai growls as the Al Behd offers him a conciliatory smile. “Gippal, start talking _now_.”

“So…I may have come here with ulterior motives?” Although Gippal tries to wiggle amusement out of Baralai, all he receives is a dead pan stare. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Baralai releases Gippal’s shirt to cross his arms over his chest before pointedly gazing at Gippal as the Praetor’s silent command – “explain” – hangs in the air.

“Okay, okay,” Gippal sighs as he sits up before sobering. “Four months ago, I broke up with Rikku.”

“I didn’t know that,” Baralai is startled at the news, and his unwavering stance loosens before he frowns. “I suppose I’m sorry.”

“Jealous, ‘Lai?” Gippal teases, and his wicked grin grows as flames light up Baralai’s cheeks.

“Don’t ask silly questions you already know the answer to,” Baralai grumbles, though he doesn’t stop himself from moving closer to Gippal and wrapping an arm around his stomach. “Keep talking.”

After the Al Behd’s laughter subsides, he continues while wrapping his own arms around Baralai, “Don’t worry, ‘Lai, I’m all yours. Now, where was I at?”

“Right,” Gippal recalls his account, “so, as I was saying, I broke up with Rikku four months ago. We just kept clashing over everything – probably because we were too similar, you know? – and, eventually, I got tired of constantly arguing with her, so I ended our relationship.”

“Gippal, please tell me you did something like that _gently_ ,” Brown eyes survey Gippal’s sheepish smile before Baralai sighs. “Gippal, honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

“See? That’s why you’re perfect for me, ‘Lai,” Gippal squeezes the Praetor between his arms, much to his fond annoyance. “Your personality’s different than mine, so you’re able to make up in the areas I lack in.”

“Enough sweet talk, Gippal,” Baralai prevents Gippal from spewing some other romantic nonsense – and reddening Baralai’s already warm cheeks – by redirecting the man’s focus. “What happened after you two broke up?”

“Well, she was furious,” Gippal insouciantly shrugs as he rubs his hands along Baralai’s side, “and she stormed out of my house screaming that I loved you more than her.”

“What?” As if he had been slapped, Baralai jerks backwards as he gapes at Gippal, who has the audacity to grin.

“I know, right? I had the same reaction,” Humming, Gippal continues explaining himself as he moves a distracted Baralai closer. “I think I was in shock for a good day before I finally snapped out of it.”

“But, when I was finally able to return to my life, I couldn’t forget her words,” A distant blue eye flicks toward the bedroom door as Gippal recalls his reaction. “I didn’t even know why I couldn’t forget. They just kept repeating in my head, and, honestly, it was driving me insane.”

“So, I just sat down one and started thinking about us,” A fond smile lingers on Gippal’s lips as he returns his gaze to his enraptured Praetor. “I started thinking about _you_ , and then – I mean, it took a week for me to come to the revelation and another week to accept it – but I then realized that she was right: I did love you.”

“And that’s why I came to Bevelle two months ago,” This catches Baralai’s attention.

“I thought you came for the Machine Faction?” His eyebrows knitted, Baralai surveys Gippal’s expression.

“To be fair, I did, in part, come for the Machine Faction,” Gippal divulges, “but I was honestly using that as an excuse to see you. At that time, the Machine Faction still wasn’t supportive of a store – anywhere, really – but I wanted to see you to figure out if maybe you felt the same way about me.”

“But, I could only stay for a day, then,” Irritation slithers across Gippal’s face before it disappears with a huff, “so, I wasn’t really able to figure much out.”

“What I did learn, though,” There’s pride gleaming from his blue eye as Gippal speaks, “is that a certain Praetor is not able to live outside of Bevelle, so I figured that, if you can’t come to the Machine Faction, then I’d bring the Machine Faction here. So that I could be with you.”

Warmth explodes in Baralai’s chest and burning water pools in Baralai’s eyes at the Al Behd’s considerations.

“You stupid, lovable idiot,” Baralai croaks before wrapping his hands around the back of Gippal’s neck and pulling him close for a chaste kiss.

“Your loveable idiot,” Gippal breathes as they pull away, and Baralai hums in agreement.

“My lovable idiot,” Brown eyes flutter close for another quick kiss, but Baralai reluctantly pushes Gippal back when he tries to swipe another kiss. “You haven’t finished your story, yet.”

“Screw my story,” Gippal scoffs as he tries to lean in again, but Baralai merely arches an eyebrow as his arm halts Gippal’s progress. “Fine, fine. I’ll finish the damn story.”

The Al Behd rolls his eye at the pleased smile adorning Baralai’s mouth before he continues his story, “Since I wasn’t able to figure out how you felt about me, I decided to come back to Bevelle this time. First, though, I needed to persuade the rest of the Machine Faction to set up a store here, but once I had their support, I was able to focus on you.”

“So, I came back to Bevelle intent on seducing you,” Baralai shakes his head at Gippal’s words, though the Al Behd grins and continues. “I didn’t know how you felt, after all, so I decided to make you love me.”

“The first step was living with you,” Gippal breaks his ‘incredible plan of seduction’ down. “Being in close proximity would allow me to gauge your feelings and learn more about your likes and dislikes, which I could then use to increase your feelings for me.”

“The next step was slightly prolonged because you kept forcing me to sleep in the guest bedroom,” A blue eye rolls in aggravation as a pout forms on Gippal’s lips. “Honestly, ‘Lai, I was starting to get offended there. You were all like “you need your own bed,” so I was forced to derail your plans.”

“What do you mean _derail my plans_?” A hiss comes out of Baralai’s mouth as eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t you dare tell me the lights and candles and bed were your fault, Gippal.”

“I was desperate!” Gippal defends as Baralai pinches his nose while repressing his more violent urges. “Besides, I didn’t do much damage. I fiddled with the electric wiring to dismantle the lights, and then I hid all your candles in the guest bedroom’s dresser.”

“And the bed, Gippal?” Icy fury pelts Gippal’s skin as Baralai leans close to the Al Behd, who wisely averts his gaze.

“Now, _that_ ,” An uncertain smile plays over Gippal’s lips as he backs away from the threatening Praetor, “that was severely damaged in the process.”

“What did you do?” Baralai growls as he yanks Gippal close.

“May have, you know, used Mortar to cut a circle in the mattress,” Sweat appears along Gippal’s hairline as the Al Behd quickly tries to calm the seething Praetor. “I’ll buy you another mattress, rest assured. So, maybe, don’t violently abuse this glorious body?”

“Why do I love you?” The anger melts away, though the irritation remains, as Baralai releases Gippal’s shirt.

“Because I love you,” Gippal cleverly responds as he wraps his arms around Baralai, who sighs before allowing himself to be enveloped.

“You still haven’t finished your story,” Baralai quietly reminds the Al Behd after calming down (and not being tempted to cut a hole into Gippal with his own weapon).

“Right. Well, all these carefully considered – and very meticulous, I’d like to add - steps became utterly unnecessary when I started noticing how odd you were acting,” Brown eyes glare as Gippal’s tone becomes predatory, “especially whenever I spoke Al Behd.”

“Gippal,” Baralai warns as his umber cheeks fill with blood, but the Al Behd only smiles wickedly.

“You have quite the kink, ‘Lai,” Burying his hands in Gippal’s hair and tugging at the golden locks in reprimand, Baralai continues glaring at Gippal’s gleeful expression.

“Gippal,” The warning no longer holds any threat, though, as Baralai softens his grip on Gippal’s hair.

“Baralai,” Gippal retorts as he lets his head be pulled closer.

“Don’t say another word, you loveable idiot,” Baralai huffs in fond exasperation before finally granting both of them their denied kiss.

“And here I thought you liked hearing me talk, ‘Lai,” Gippal purrs as they part, and Baralai can’t help but return the smile on Gippal’s face.

It is true: he does love hearing him talk. But talking is the last thing on Baralai’s mind when he kisses Gippal again before tugging him down onto the bed.

Of course, Baralai ends up ruining his order when he begs Gippal to say a word, but, fortunately, the blond Al Behd is more than delighted to fulfill his wish.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Constructive criticism, feedback, votes, and bookmarks are much appreciated! Look forward to the next installment in the Gippalaipalooza Series!


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